la vibora y el delincuente
by minkspit
Summary: Sure, he was about to confront Splinter's crazy daughter turned mutant turned renegade without any of the guys along, and all he had to show from their last fight was a healed wrist, but that was fine. Casey Jones did not do "nervous." OR: Karai and Casey bond. Sort of. Combination of 2k12 and IDW Casey; slightly AU character building.
1. Chapter 1

Casey Jones was not good at this "responsible sibling" shit.

Actually, that was a lie. He thought he was alright at it. Kinda. Robyn was still alive and begging him to have tea parties, wasn't she? Casey had lost a tooth or two beating the tar out of Purple Dragons and freaks of the week to keep the neighborhood safe for her. Maybe he had woken up with a pounding migraine a few times in the morning, but his younger sister's sleepy face while he got her ready for school made everything worth it.

This was all the sibling sacrifice he made without including the turtles. Who knew how many times he had put his skin on the line for the Hamato family. Casey didn't call them his brothers, but they were close enough. He had binged all of the Nightmare on Elm Street movies with Raph's dramatic ass, downed multiple Mikey disaster pizzas, surprise noogied Donatello for being a nerd, and actively gave Leonardo shit for his Space Hero fanfiction whenever possible.

He had some weird feelings about April but he brushed them under the carpet whenever possible. Casey Jones was also not good at this "self reflection" shit. He didn't lose much sleep over that one. He and Red went to school together, fought mutants, and struggled through calc tutoring in the library. Cool. That at least qualified them as pretty damn good friends. If the Hamato brothers didn't live in a sweet sewer lair and April wouldn't ask questions about the house Casey would have already rolled out the red carpet and had them crash at the completely-not-Dad-approved condemned apartment where he hung out half the time.

So, all in all, Casey thought he was alright sibling for being spread thin over so many different duties. He tried. If Robyn forced him to eat a few spoonfuls of wheaties because she thought he looked tired-sleep deprived, sick, dealing with mutant problems, dealing with Dad problems, dealing with high school problems, dealing with all the problems-that was a sacrifice he was willing to make. He hadn't dropped out yet. If he did, he was planning to get a GED. See? He could make responsible decisions, too. Sure, there was all that "getting in detention" and "punching a cop that clung to Mikey's shell too long" business, but whatever. Robyn didn't see that. He was a better role model than Dad half the time. That was all that mattered.

Really, Casey was bad at a lot of shit that didn't involve knocking heads. He was bad at "being a good eldest son" shit, "legible handwriting" shit, "not making Dad angry and avoiding a slap to the head for more than two weeks" shit, "practicing Spanish" shit, "using an inside voice" shit, and "avoiding excessive profanity so Master Splinter didn't furrow his brows and then clear his throat that one time" shit. Plenty of issues could not be solved with a swing of a hockey stick or a smartass remark. Sometimes that stung, but Casey took pride in the fact that when he failed, he failed spectacularly. There were no people who kinda wanted to be his friend or kinda hated him, he thought, looking at the row of shaky B's and D-'s on his report card. Everyone either wanted to kill him or hang out with him. Simple as that. The complicated areas were reserved for Dad. No one else got a ticket to that weird grey area of the auditorium.

The problem right now was that he wasn't good at that "talking to the mutant snake ninja sitting on the shop roof with no explanation" thing. Somehow, Casey thought that not many other people would be good at that either.

New York had not hit winter yet, but nor was it in fall. The city had reached the blurry time of transition that put it nowhere. The sunlight playing across the decaying cluster of apartments and seething traffic in the streets did not disappear, but a gleam in the light made everything colder and golder. Robyn wore gloves in the morning when she took the bus to school now. Casey found his fingers growing numb on patrols far faster. The few green spaces in their neighborhood flamed with yellow, orange, and red that curdled into brown at the edges.

Soup kitchens preemptively breathed in before the influx of winter traffic arrived. Animals were preparing too-Casey swore the rats he saw chewing at cardboard outside their apartments looked plumper already. Whenever Casey roof-hopped back to their shop and home above it, he saw the same chilly autumn rain that trickled down his collar slicking the fire escapes and fire ladders outside the stacked apartments. When combined with the neon street lights of the stores below, it almost made the sparkling ladders look like they were going somewhere. Not silver toothpicks of metal that he and the turtles had almost broke their necks on more than once.

Now there was an extra addition to their steam-belching rooftop. Casey spotted the glimmer of white scales from across the street. He hoped that any passersby thought it was a garbage bag caught up there again. No one here ever called the police, but the situation could get nasty enough without them involved. It was a blessing that Dad was out that evening. Casey cursed to himself as he climbed the stairs to the rooftop exit. He snatched a coat on the way up. If he had to participate in an unfair ninja fight, he wasn't going to be cold for the beginning. _Damnit, Karai,_ he thought.

The door swung open with a wheeze. Both Casey and Arnie had been working hard to ensure it didn't rot off its hinges. Casey stepped out onto the rooftop with a hockey stick in hand. He hoped his footsteps didn't sound tentative. He definitely wasn't nervous. At all. Sure, he was about to confront Splinter's crazy daughter turned mutant turned renegade without any of the guys along, and all he had to show from their last fight was a healed wrist, but that was fine. Casey Jones did not do "nervous." There was a fifty-fifty chance she was reasonable or losing her mind in her half-form again. Like a coin flip, Casey told himself. The odds weren't bad, right?

Karai perched on the corner of the roof. She was mostly human. She sat back on her heels with her elbows resting on her knees. From behind, she looked like a statue. Shredder hadn't carved any imperfections into his best work. Her neck was a little too long for her body. A ghost of a tail peeked from the back of her pants. In the neon moonlight, Casey saw white clumps of scales shivering along her elbows and spine.

It wasn't like Karai was a shampoo model in her spare time-people who flicked spines in half didn't need to do that-but her hair was different. It looked rougher. Ropy. It had the sheen of greased horsehair, falling around her pale ears like a noose nuzzling close to a throat. Her unseen face stared out into the night. Casey started to suspect the feeling in his stomach was something like dread.

"Hey," he said, loudly. "What's the deal, snake face?"

Perfect. Ten-out-of-ten Jones family tact. He stood in the middle of the sagging roof knowing that Karai could hear his every shift. When he spoke, a puff of white escaped his mouth. Karai didn't move. The crescent moon seemed to tip closer through the smog, just for her. Casey fidgeted. His next three steps made the roof groan.

"Funny," Casey said. "Are you practicing your gargoyle poses up here? Meditating? There are lots of better places to go. Central Park, for starters."

The slim structure of dripping hair, scales, and sheathed knives that was Karai did not answer. Casey's danger instinct rang in the back of his head. He pushed forward anyway. The shellphone was in his coat pocket, but this wasn't his coat. He had grabbed Dad's instead. Arnie's jacket sagged around his shoulders. There was nothing but receipts in these pockets.

The only link to the brothers was a flight of stairs down, hanging in a warm kitchen. Casey wasn't turning back now. He based his life off bad decisions. The roof creaked again. Every puff of white breath felt like a death rattle. Karai remained frozen. Five steps away, Casey saw the pattern of her scales.

"Really, Karai," he said. His voice came out crackly. "You're being creepier than usual. What are you doing here? Are you okay?"

 _Do I need to get Splinter? Shit, I hope she's okay or I can get Splinter._ Karai was a reach away. Casey could have watched his bruised knuckles flex as he extended his hand and placed it between her shoulder blades. He did not do that. Karai's back was a little long too, he noticed. Casey edged out his hockey stick, poking Karai's shoulder.

The end of the stick cracked from the force Karai grabbed it with. Casey swore as she almost wrenched the stick out of his hands. Wood bit at his chapped fingers. Karai's upper torso twisted around independently of her body, hissing, as she flung Casey and his hockey stick backwards. One of Casey's feet left the ground. The swear died in his throat when he stumbled back three steps.

"Holy shit, give me a warning!" Casey gripped his hockey stick tighter. Blood welled beneath one segment of cracked skin. "What are you trying to do, break one of my good sticks in half?"

"Can you stop talking?"

A sliver of Karai's cheek faced him. Casey heard a soft rasp in that welled beneath each syllable.

"I asked what you were doing," he said. "You didn't answer me."

Karai rubbed one of her temples. Irritation ran through Casey. Splinter did the same thing when Leo and Raph's rivalry was on his last nerves. All he had done was ask why she had bothered to show up at his apartment past sunset. _How is this fair?_ Casey lifted the hockey stick, puffed his chest, and stepped closer. The flash of movement on Karai's face might have been a rolling eye. Her hair blurred her jawline. It swept out longer than any curve of a human's face.

"You're sitting on top of my home in plain sight," Casey said. "Are you gonna tell me why you're here or if you're okay or not?"

"Are all members of your family this obnoxious?"

"Seriously, Karai, I want an answer. You're not looking great."

"As if you care," she said.

"I'm about to stop caring in fast fuckin' order," Casey said. "Frigging A, Why don't any of you ninjas know how to give a straightforward answer?"

The cold was doing wonders for his confidence. Casey still didn't feel as steady as he sounded. Karai's brow crinkled, disturbing her whole face. The bridge of her nose blended with her forehead. Casey tried not to take all of her in at once. What word did Mikey use to describe her that one time? Elegant? Dangerous? _Nah._ Casey worked his jaw and avoided looking her right in the eye. If he focused on her scaly forehead, he could do that. _Unsettling._ Right. That was the word.

"I was getting fresh air," Karai said.

"Fresh air," Casey said. "Out in the projects. Right."

Karai gave an exhausted huff. It rattled up out of her throat with effort. Now that Casey paid attention, he realized that she had not moved from her spot once. Even as a half-ally Karai usually revelled in putting them on edge with her superior reflexes. April and Raph in particular hated it. Now, as a half-snake, she remained aloof. Casey started to see a hue in her cheeks. It was not from the neon lights.

"Karai, you're turning blue."

"Hardly," she said. "It appears you damaged your brain through your thick skull after all." Her forked tongue flickered out, tasted the air, and retreated into her mouth with a flash.

Could snakes get hypothermia? Casey didn't remember if he had passed third grade science. That slinky ninja outfit didn't look like it provided much warmth. An idea struck him. He stabbed his hockey stick forward. It stopped five inches from Karai and went a foot wide of her, but she bowed, striking at it with her hand. This did not hide the fact her swipe went out two seconds too late. Casey took one step back in the face of her new irritation.

"The cold is really messing with you, isn't it?" he said.

"That was uncalled for, Jones." The hiss emerged now. Her folded fangs gleamed at the roof of her mouth. "Do that again and I'll remove your stick _and_ your hand."

"I bet you will," Casey said. "No, really, I bet you will." He hastily put his hands up as Karai glared. "Sorry. Stupid thing to do."

The quiet settled between them far too quickly. Murmurs on the street and the distant sounds of honking cars scraped the roof like dead leaves in a breeze. Casey was tired of standing on the roof. Now that the last wedge of sun had died, the temperature plummeted. Cold gnawed on Casey's face. The blood from the cut on his finger congealed in a sticky thread along the creases of his hand. Karai bent, her knees slithering closer to her chest. Her eyes were glazed. The columns of steam admitting from busted heaters all over the city offered them no warmth.

Casey knew this was a bad idea. It wasn't a bad idea he liked, either. He could feel it knocking around his ribs with the grace of a bad fall. The little voice in his head that subbed in for Raph was saying _don't be an idiot, Jones._ Maybe the chorus of the other Hamato brothers was with it. Casey wasn't sure. He was too busy thinking of Robyn, fast asleep in their shared room, and the blue hue on Karai's face.

"Come on," Casey said. "We both know how this is going to end."

He stepped back. Even in her sluggish state, Karai's back tensed. Suspicion filled her slit eyes. Casey lowered his hockey stick and sighed. He gestured to the door, begrudgingly.

"You're going to freeze if you stay out here," he said. "Hell, we both are. Are you going down the stairs first or me?"

Karai had fragmented eyebrows. In this state, they looked like remnants of human skin struggling to keep their grip on a peel of granite. Casey still saw one arch.

"This is a poor joke even for you, if it is one," Karai said.

"I mean it," Casey said. "Get inside before I change my mind."

Against his instincts, he turned his back to her, heading for the door. He was glad she didn't see his shiver when he heard her scales rub together. _Shit,_ he thought, _I'm lucky the guys were living in the sewer before her._ Casey turned around when he heard no footsteps.

"You coming, or not?" he said.

"What do you have to gain from this?"

Karai now sat with her legs over the building rim, her feet brushing the floor. Casey didn't know if he felt relief or the urge to bolt rising. _Don't be a coward,_ he told himself. Casey focused on the more human bits of her face. Her hair was easy enough to look at.

"You're friends with the turtles," he said, "and you're family with them and Splinter. That's enough for me."

Karai stilled. Casey didn't know if it was a hesitation or a cold gust of wind that slowed her. In the white sea of scales and skin, something changed her expression. It left Casey with a stretch of face he did not understand. He wished he was looking at Mikey or Raph instead-hell, even Leo or Donnie. Despite the turtle beaks, it was easy to see what they felt. The only unreadable one of the group was Splinter.

"You have a particular definition of 'friends,'" Karai said. "I don't believe it fits you."

Casey saw the word 'family' curling around her split tongue before she smothered it. His heartbeat quickened. It was not in the way everyone's heartbeat quickened in one of Splinter's soaps. It was an ugly, missed-a-beat feeling that came from staring at Arnie's shoes on a hungover morning. _We're not having this talk,_ he thought. If Karai was going to kill him she could do it without humiliation.

He looked at her black hair again. It rejected her old bleached stripes with a vengeance. Inky color ate its way up her hairs.

"Dunno what that means, but fine," Casey said. "You're blood with Splinter, he cares about what happens to you, and we're… enemies of an enemy, which sort of makes us friends. Good enough for you?"

Despite her short hair Karai had lots of it. Robyn would have a field day braiding it. That realization gave Casey so much whiplash that he yanked his gaze to her nostrils. They looked like grooves carved into her lengthened, distorted face. Pits shaped like apple seeds.

Whatever thoughts were clunking into place inside Karai's mind reached their position. She put her weight on her feet. Casey's teeth ached. That still did not look like movement in the making.

"I won't swing at you again," he said, desperately. "I promise."

That unlocked something. Karai's green slit eyes glowed with a decision. She moved from the roof corner. Part of Casey knew it was really the blood relation part that had convinced her, but he was too cold and sickened to care.

"You go first," Karai said. She crept towards him, footsteps measured.

Was that a threat, or a plea? Didn't matter. Karai could kill him in five seconds. The more seconds slipped by, the more Casey realized he didn't want her in the apartment, and the more he realized he had to let her in. She was a Hamato, in a screwed up way. He owed it to Splinter, at least, to make sure she didn't freeze.

 _The old man better feel all the favors he owes me in whatever karmic field he's always meditating to reach,_ Casey thought. Then again, Casey found himself right: Karai was the enemy of an enemy. It would be a dick move of expansive proportions to leave her out to dry after she had saved them. Now he knew how Donnie felt. It sucked to be right.

"No funny business," Casey said. The door knob numbed in his hand. "You stay in the dining room, and if you hear noise or someone shows up, come back out here or go through the store door. Got it?"

No reply. Casey huffed. A hiss unfolded from Karai's lips.

"Yes," she said.

Casey lowered the hockey stick as he pushed the door open. Heat wafted towards him, hitting his face. A shiver crawled up his spine when he felt Karai's presence slink closer. A ripple went through Arnie's coat. Was that a forked tongue tickling his ear? _Oh, god,_ he thought, _don't look behind you._

"Well," Casey said, waving at the stairs and struggling to find his bravado again, "welcome to the Jones family home. Number one crash pad for freaks and vigilantes."

Karai wordlessly shut the door behind them before following him down the staircase.


	2. Chapter 2

The apartment was small but warm. It had a kitchenette with pseudo-tiled floor that morphed into the dining room, which was a table with several chairs that did not sit on the pseudo-tiled strip of floor. The fridge crammed itself behind the table, pressed against the section of wall that separated Robyn and Casey's room from Dad's. The instant Karai entered the main room Casey beelined for the doors. He did not want her investigating Robyn or Dad's room, even with a fleeting glance. Casey was relieved that the door to his and Robyn's room was closed.

"Pick a seat," he said. Karai stood by the table like a rigid nightmare. "Any one. Doesn't matter."

Karai sunk into a chair while Casey turned on the kitchen and dining room lights. As long as he left the store ones off, he thought, Dad wouldn't suspect anything. He would only get a chewing out for raising the bill. The apartment glowed with cheap warmth. Casey checked the stairs that led down to the store and the roof ones again. It wouldn't be surprising if someone had followed Karai. New York overall was not too fond of her. When his check was over he sat his hockey stick by the refrigerator, just in case.

After he was done, for a lack of anything else to do, Casey sat down across from Karai. The one thing he regretted about turning all the lights on-though Casey Jones never regretted anything, ever-was that it brought all of Karai into painful focus. It was hard to get away with looking at part of her that wasn't her eyes. She would know. Casey didn't want her to.

It wasn't that Karai was the ugliest mutant he had ever seen, Casey thought. She wasn't. Even when she was in full snake form, all of Shredder's usual cronies placed far higher than her on the ugly scale. Bebop or Rocksteady stole the trophy for most hideous, and on a smoggy evening, Slash gave them a run for their thing about Karai was that she looked transient. The indents on her fingers without fingernails to fill them and hundreds of other gaps made Casey feel hollow. Karai was the reflection someone glimpsed in a polished fire escape after a night of drugs or drinking, the split second when they didn't recognize themselves. That threw a shiver up Casey's spine.

The sink dripped. Each sound echoed through the room. The hum of an ancient heater rattled through the thin walls. Casey tapped his shoes on the floor. Karai stayed in her seat, arms folded, hands laced atop the table. Her head was dipped. Casey didn't know what she was looking at. He resorted to rapping his fingers on the table edge. His gaze roamed over every part of the apartment but the spot in front of him. The busted sofa squeezed into the corner. A broom leaning against the kitchenette. Their TV. The jar of change on the counter surrounded by musty Christmas cards from Mom. The equally dusty prayer candle next to them. Dad's keys to the store. Robyn's sparkly backpack by the door, located next to Casey's coat. The clock that notified him it had only been three painful minutes. It was only 11:54 PM.

 _This literally hell,_ Casey thought. He thought being strong armed into a meditation session with Leo, April, and Donnie was the worst. He was wrong. This was. He drummed out the riff from Highway to Hell before Karai shifted with definite annoyance. _Nope,_ Casey thought. He restrained himself. His fingers crimped.

Karai, the statue that she was, said nothing. Casey felt like a bottled up bin of lit fireworks. He flexed his cut hand. Casey frowned at the blood. He'd forgotten about that. Karai's pupils dilated, and her tongue snuck forward to stroke the air again. It remained out of her mouth far longer. Casey almost tipped over the napkin holder in his haste to clean up his hand.

"Do you-"

"I'm fine," Casey said, loudly.

Shit. Too loud. The door to Robyn's room creaked. Karai gave him a dirty look. Casey cleared his throat, struggling to remind himself _be quiet, you dumbass._ Oh, great. Karai was really watching him now. She probably expected him to do something stupid. Casey tried ignoring her. He spun around in his chair to face the wall. _Alright, fine, Karai,_ he thought. _Let's be awkward. We don't have to talk._

The attempt at tossing the blood-splotched napkin into the trash can failed. Instead of landing in the trash can, it bounced behind it. Casey swore the tip of Karai's tongue followed the napkin wad's trajectory across the room. There was no Mikey compliment or Raph insult at missing his target, only judgement he felt creeping across his skin.

At that moment, the refrigerator kicked off. One of the last hums in the room died. Silence reigned. Casey decided he was not going to make it another hour. His eye fell on the refrigerator handle.

"You want a snack?" he said.

"No," Karai said. Casey could hear her disdain clearer this time. She sounded less raspy.

"Suit yourself," Casey said.

Now that he thought of it, he was hungry. He hadn't eaten anything since he had returned from hockey practice. His stomach rumbled when he pulled open the fridge. Karai wrinkled her nose at the slight waft of cold. The dying fridge light flickered. Casey dug through their leftovers. Boxes of old Chinese leftovers lined the front of the fridge alongside a jug of Robyn's chocolate milk, orange juice, some cheese slices, two bags of bread, and a sparse carton of eggs. Casey instantly smelled a funky stench. Was the take-out rotting? Casey sniffed at the boxes. Yeah, maybe. Casey pushed them aside to reach the tupperware of meatballs in the back. A sandwich it was, he thought. He would clean house when a ninja assassin wasn't judging his every move.

Karai watched him with something akin to wariness when he shut the door behind him and dumped all sandwich ingredients on the table.

"Are you not going to warm that up?" she said.

"Nah." Casey dropped a lump of cold meatballs onto a bread slice. "Takes too much time."

"Your microwave is five feet away, Jones."

"Don't feel like waiting a minute," Casey said. He squashed the second slice of bread on top of the cheese and meatballs. Karai shuddered as he took a bite.

"You're disgusting," she said.

"That's what I've heard," Casey said, cheerfully, mouth full. Karai looked ready to smack the sandwich out of his hands.

When he was halfway through his sandwich, he heard a stomach grumble. Casey blinked when Karai leaned further over the table. Her face was shorter. Pupils sharper than knife ends stared out of emerald eyes. Her hair was a little silkier.

"I wouldn't mind taking you up on that food offer," Karai said, "if there is anything left."

Casey almost offered her a bite of his sandwich before deciding that was a joking offer he did not want to make.

It took another minute or two to fix Karai a sandwich. The microwave beeped insistently before Casey fished the plate of meatballs out. The smell of beef wafted through the kitchen. Karai sat at the table with poise while he finished putting it together. After he sat the plate in front of her, Casey leaned against the fridge.

"Want something to drink?"

"If you would," Karai said. Somehow, the polite formality was a command. Casey got up to obey her like any good servant. _No wonder the rest of the Foot couldn't stand her,_ Casey thought. _It's like dealing with a Splinter who thinks he's five times better than you at everything._

Back to the fridge. Casey didn't feel like water. The quality of it had been getting iffy anyway. His face soured when he found a few bottles of beer. Absolutely not. Casey grabbed Robyn's chocolate milk. If Karai thought she was above it, she could chance the tap water herself. Karai tipped her head in thanks when Casey shoved the glass towards her. Her composure didn't change. She was the guest, but it felt to Casey like she was the host, and he was some visitor who should've been grateful for her graciousness. Casey wasn't sure how much he liked that. He collapsed back in his own seat.

Now there was nothing but the sounds of Karai eating. She didn't chew so much as she took neat bites and swallowed them whole. Casey could see them traveling down her throat. Morbid curiosity kept him spellbound. This was like watching a National Geographic special on mutagen. Did she eat mice like this? Casey averted his eyes when he realized he was staring. Just because it was really metal didn't mean he had to be rude.

There was a soft crunch. It sounded like a dime landing in the bottom of a sink. At first, Casey thought something had come loose in the walls. A white speck sat next to Karai's plate. Bread? No. He realized it was a tooth.

"Sorry," Karai said. Her far less forked tongue licked a full ridge of teeth. She picked up the stray fang and swallowed it with a gulp of milk. The last perfect molar finished sliding into place. Scales slid back into her skin, burrowing back into their hiding places. Casey saw a few disintegrate. Karai's human proportions reshaped her form at the table.

This was disgusting and the best thing Casey Jones had seen all week. It gained even more awesome points when he imagined Donatello passing out after seeing it. One aspect made Casey frown: Karai wasn't fully back yet. Some scales remained on her cheekbones and elbows. The pit look hadn't vanished from her nostrils, and the nails on her fingers looked weak, like they had been soaking in bathwater. He wasn't an expert on mutation, but this didn't look like her human form.

Casey had a revelation when he spotted their thermostat. It would cost too much to boost the heat, but he knew what was wrong. Karai looked over her shoulder when he approached her, coat in hand.

"Take it." Casey waved his coat at her from a foot away. "It'll help you warm up faster."

Karai accepted it without objection. She slipped her arms through the plush sleeves and let its patch-covered angles settle on her. The skull patch on the back stared at Casey from her back. A sense of awe and envy hit him at the same time.

 _Okay,_ _I'm only a little mad that it looks better on her than me._ No biggie. Karai had a headstart on him when it came to looking punk. Besides, Raph and the others would never see her wearing it. As far they knew, he was the only one who could pull it off. That gave him solace. Casey retreated into his daydreams to imagine how badass he would look when he finally got a motorcycle. It was only when Karai finished eating and her human face greeted Casey across the table that he realized the obvious: she had come to him for help. Not the turtles.

 _Shit._ Casey reclined to hide the concern on his face. He should have been flattered, but the first feeling that hit him was that this was not good. People did not approach near strangers with intent to make friends. Especially not aloof ones. Whenever someone wanted a favor, Casey knew, they expected something else along with it. Nothing came for free. Karai was not his friend: maybe she was friends with Leo, or he was trying to push them into that ring, and maybe the other turtles and April felt sympathetic for her, even if just due to Splinter loving her, but Casey was not in that loop.

Why hadn't she just gone to the turtles, her brothers, for help first?

The chair legs clattered against the floor when Casey sat up. Karai, now done with her food, observed him the way any keeper would observe an odd animal.

"What?" she said.

"Nothing," Casey said. "Just talking to myself."

That was a grade A bad question to ask. Not worth it. Definitely not worth it. Karai returned to meditating and judging him. Casey propped his foot against the table and reclined again. There were too many things to think about.

Actually, this made even less sense. He was the one doing the favor for Karai. Didn't that mean she owed him now? Karai did not strike Casey as someone who allowed favors to stack up. Shaky relationships or not, at least the turtles wanted her, which meant they wouldn't hold a favor over her head. _Then again,_ Casey thought, _just because Karai knows that, doesn't mean she trusts it._

The guys were definitely adjusting to this mutant sister situation faster than she had some suspicions, but they were fading. Don approached her with a cautious optimism Casey had come to relate to beta testing: maybe the first six versions of this would be terrible, but it would work out eventually. Leo was having some crisis about being the oldest Hamato-come to think of it, Casey thought, when wasn't Leo having some leadership crisis?-but when he wasn't doing that, he tried so hard to pull Karai into the family that it kinda hurt Casey to watch. And Mikey was Mikey.

Which stuck Casey back in the 'why not go to the turtles?' mire. Most of Karai's interactions with Leo, Raph, Don, or Mikey hadn't involved fighting them, not without eventual apologies. Casey figured that Karai couldn't avoid them forever. Mikey was prepared to wrestle her into their fold via sleepovers and pizza already. No one could bolt from their family. As much as he liked the guys and disliked Karai, he felt sympathy for her.

 _Yeah, but do you actually dislike Karai anymore?_

Too late, Casey heard the doorknob jingling. Karai flew out of her seat. Casey barely skidded in front of the table to hide her plate when Robyn pushed their bedroom door open, bleary eyed.

"Casey, why d' you have all the lights on?" Robyn rubbed at her eyes. The plastic butterflies at the end of her box braids jingled. She had Foxy the fox clamped under her right arm. Casey hurried towards her.

"No reason," he said. "Just felt like it."

"You're weird," Robyn said, yawning. She kicked her legs when Casey scooped her up. "Put me down. Want some water."

"Kiddo, you need to be in bed," Casey said. "I'll get you some. Promise."

"Pinkie promise?"

"Pinkie promise," he said. Casey's heart was pounding. He hoped Karai had found a secure hiding place or bolted out the right door.

Robyn buried her face in his neck before bringing up a small fist to hit his other shoulder. "It's so briiiiiight. I wanna go back." She kicked her legs again.

"We're going, we're going," Casey said. He carried her into the bedroom and shut the door behind them.

Robyn went back to bed easily. Casey was grateful for that. She set the glass of water on the nightstand and wormed beneath the covers without protest. Robyn grabbed Casey's arm before he left.

"Is Dad back?" she said.

"No, he's not," Casey said. "I'm waiting for him. I'll go to sleep when he gets back."

"'Kay." Robyn yawned again before nuzzling into the pillow. Casey patted her hand before pulling it off his wrist, tucked it back in with her, and snuck out into the kitchen again.

He only started a little when Karai let go of the ceiling and landed in front of him.

"That was an abysmal warning," she said.

"Hey, I'm not the ninja," Casey said. "Isn't it your job to hear when someone is coming?"

Karai shrugged. Now, with her snake features gone, she glanced over the apartment. Casey felt like she was seeing it with a different set of eyes. It was surreal to have her standing in his living room. She almost looked normal.

"Is she a relative?" Karai said.

"Who, Robyn? Yeah, she's my sister."

"I can see the similarities."

Casey laughed. "Right. That's a first."

Karai crossed her arms. "Would you have preferred me admitting I couldn't see it?"

"Most people do," Casey said. "It's fine. We're half siblings."

Karai looked satisfied with that answer. It saved her and everyone else from having to do the mental math of solving how Casey, straight-haired and paler than a drowned corpse, was related to Robyn, the opposite side of those spectrums. Karai hadn't fled at the first sign of an intruder. Casey wondered how much longer she would stay.

"You better have given her a good explanation," Karai said.

"Karai, chill. She's nine. She's not going to get suspicious. I just said I was waiting for Arnie to get home."

"Arnie?"

Casey snorted. "Dad. He's noisy. Don't worry about it."

Due to the lights, the room was a few degrees warmer. It brought out the plush texture in the sofa cushions. Casey refused to move to the couch. It was more comfortable, but he wanted something between him and Karai. It felt wrong to put nothing but natural space between them, as if they were familiar. He was relieved to see Karai walk back to the table. She felt the same way.

"I used to do the same," Karai said. She traced the rim of the milk glass with her finger.

"Do what?" Casey said.

"Wait for the Shredder to return from missions," Karai said, matter-of-fact. "That was when I considered him my father. He's dead to me now."

Even if he was bad at self-introspection shit Casey knew when someone was handing him an important fact. He warily accepted it. Karai's statement felt like it held as much weight as any wrapped present.

"It's mostly a waste," Casey said. "He can take care of himself. Doesn't really care whether I wait for him or not unless Robyn is freaking out."

"There was never another," Karai said. "Just me. I waited for the Shredder when I was younger. I stopped the older I grew. It was not admirable any longer, then. Only a nuisance."

"Yeah, parents get weird about waiting when you're older," Casey said. "It's more about what they expect and not what you're feeling, if y'know what I mean."

"I do." Karai's hand closed around the crease of her arm. Her face was both pained and high-school bitter. "Undoubtedly."

Maybe it was quiet, but there were a hundred memories of training sessions, awkward drives to school, disappointment grated through steel masks, and trembling in doorways filling the space, and that made it not quiet at all. Casey started to wish he had hidden Dad's wallet or busted every beer bottle in the refrigerator. Maybe both. He didn't know what Karai thought of. That made him glad.

"It doesn't matter," Karai said. She unsheathed and resheathed a knife with an angry snap. Casey didn't know who the hell had argued with her. Whatever the cause, hurt rage trembled in her now. "Shredder was only worth the training he gave me. It will be what ends him. He'll regret it until his last miserable moment. Otosama-no, not Otosama; he was never my-"

"What are you talking about?" Casey said. "That's the Japanese word for father, isn't it?"

"Not entirely," Karai said. "It involves more respect."

"Yeah, whatever," Casey said. "He was your father."

Karai narrowed her eyes. Arched in her seat. If her fangs were out, they would be preparing to strike Casey's arm.

"I do not want a lecture on my family dynamics from a delinquent."

"Oh for fuck's sake, shut up for a second." Casey threw his hands up. "I'm on your side. Gimme a minute to finish."

"How vulgar," Karai said. "You make Raphael look poetic."

"Cram it, snake-girl. The point here is that Shredder raised you. You thought you two were related. He's basically your father. He's also a terrible person and a walking weaponized dumpster. Whatever."

"Your point is not helping you or your case."

"Fathers suck," Casey said. "That's what I'm getting to."

Karai arched her eyebrow again and Casey felt like he was defending his thesis in front of a horde of skeptic teachers and Leonardos.

"So that's it," she said.

"Hear me out," Casey said. "Fathers suck, but since they're blood family, you're stuck with them. Always. It doesn't matter how awful they are; you owe them something until the minute you leave. It's how family works. Dads are the people who raise you that _aren't_ your father. Like, all that gooshy 'choose your own family' trash. Not that it's bad trash. So even if you know Splinter is technically your father, you thought Shredder was. That changes stuff."

"You're saying that since I believed Shredder was my father, I'm now free of obligation to him, and it makes Splinter my…. dad instead," Karai finally said.

"Exactly." Casey leaned back in his chair, putting his arms behind his head. "Splinter is your _dad_ , which means you have a chance for stuff not to suck with him. You don't owe him anything if stuff doesn't work out. Shredder is your father that you ditched, so you can say 'screw you' every time you see him."

"Jones, if this was a roundabout way to say I can call the Shredder my father without guilt, you wasted plenty of time saying it," Karai said. "I didn't ask for your opinion, either."

"What do you want? A venn diagram?"Casey kicked a chair in frustration. It tipped harder than he had expected. _Whoops._ This was what he got for trying to be helpful. "I don't have a frickin' Ph.D in dad and father shit! Sorry I'm not Don or Leo and I didn't pop out a chart or grandstand!"

"I was going to say thank you."

Casey's 'what?' ground to a halt in his mouth when he unbalanced his chair. He swore, milling his arms, trying not to fall backwards. Karai leapt over the table and grabbed the chair just as Casey got his toes onto the floor.

"You're incapable of dignity," Karai said. Casey couldn't tell if she was joking or not.

"I wasn't gonna fall over. I can stand a chair up on my own, thanks." Casey huffed, but only a little. Lesson one of hanging out with the turtles: never glare too hard at a ninja in close proximity. Even Mikey had a devastating headbutt.

"And the Hamatos let you carry explosives," Karai said.

"Hardy-har. Heard it from Raph before, thanks."

Karai released his chair, hopping back over the table. She settled into her seat again. Casey replayed her words in his head over and over again to make sure he had not heard them wrong. Making a mistake in front of Karai would be terrible. He brushed at the mess of hair that stuck out from beneath his bandana.

"Hey, Karai. Earlier, did you say-"

"Did I say what?" Karai said.

Casey looked across the table at the face of Karai, a girl he had only fought prior to several months ago, who he sometimes fought now, and who was only in his apartment out of his loyalty for someone else. His healed wrist ached. The cold outside made the apartment windows blue. The way Karai looked at him, it was as though she kept searching for a mask. She looked caught somewhere between comfort and caution. Karai was a girl and Splinter's daughter, but also a snake, also once Shredder's, and the latter made her vulnerability-proof. No secrets or feelings were going to spill out of her. Not really. Casey found he wasn't surprised. If she wasn't plotting to murder him or anything, he kind of respected that.

"Nothing," Casey said.


	3. Chapter 3

For all the awkwardness, at least the initial communication barrier was gone. It had blown into smithereens alongside Casey's suspicions that Karai would bail as soon as possible. Having her there was weird, but Casey had experienced weirder. He cleaned up the table-Karai did not help, of course-before he remembered that he had homework to finish. Why halt his entire evening just because Karai showed up? She wasn't _that_ special. Besides, it washed the old conversation out of the room. Karai watched him dig a folder out of his backpack and dump it onto the table.

"What are you doing?" she said. "Looking over some of Donatello's calculations?"

There was so much disbelief in her face. Casey wanted to laugh. He scribbled his name on the calculus homework.

"No," he said. "Doing homework."

Karai's skepticism grew with every sheet he wrote a name on before tucking back into the folder.

"That doesn't look like it doing it to me," she said.

"Hey, a name is a good start," Casey said. "Red isn't here to suffer through math with me, so I'm doing what I can." He crammed the draft of an old essay into the recesses of his backpack. April could save him in math, but she couldn't save him in English. Casey couldn't say it bothered him. As long as he passed, he passed.

"How you've survived in any school astounds me," Karai said. She reeked of upper class teachings in a room made of folding screens.

"It's public high school," Casey said. "Half of the students don't care." Satisfied with his work, he crammed the folder back into his backpack. "Most of 'em are out celebrating every weekend. Didn't the Foot have any dumb teenagers? I know for a fact the Dragons do."

"In our ranks, yes. But we run a ninja clan, not a school. My only lessons were one on one tutoring with the Shredder."

Casey whistled. "Ouch."

"It was not pleasant, no," Karai said. "For all I admired Father, covering geography and politics with him were infinitely worse than any sparring lessons."

For all the effort he put into avoiding math, Casey was doing some calculations in his head. "So you never got to hang out with other people and go to parties on weekends."

"I was homeschooled by the Foot, Jones," Karai said, emphasizing it. "It wasn't exactly full of leisure time. The more you talk about your high school, less it sounds like any of you learn anything in it."

"You do learn," Casey said. "But I'm not gonna argue with you. It's more about doing all the stunts your parents wouldn't let you do behind their back."

An idea struck him. A stupid idea. It became stupider the longer Casey looked at Karai's face and the packet of cigarettes buried on the counter behind her. How many times had she sat in a room listening to Shredder drone on about proper Foot leadership and his hatred for Splinter? Casey imagined her standing in an auditorium of stiff Foot soldiers.

"Wanna go smoke on the roof?"

Casey blurted it out before he could backpedal. Karai started.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Casey said. He had committed. No time to back out now. "Dad always has a pick of cigarettes laying around. He never misses any of them. Since you missed the chance to do stupid stuff in the Foot, don't you want to do it now?"

"No," Karai said immediately.

"Aw, come on."

"Jones, have you already forgotten what the cold does to me?" Karai gestured at herself. "I do not want to be lethargic again, or half snake. It's been miserable enough to keep me in your tiny apartment for the past hour."

"You have my coat," Casey said. "It's thick. If you get too cold, the apartment is a door away."

Karai was unmoved.

"I have some winter hats," Casey said.

"Why are you intent on this? You can do whatever stupid things it is you do any time of the day. Isn't that why you're friends with Raphael?"

"I mean, yeah, but also no." Casey shook the carton of cigarettes. He had already stolen Arnie's jacket off the coat hanger. Its long sleeves bunched around his hands. A lighter weighed down its other pocket. Karai remained at the table, eyes narrowed. "C'mon, Karai. Everybody does it once. It's a rite of passage. One cigarette isn't going to ruin your lungs. Promise."

Out of everything he said, the phrase 'rite of passage' hit a nerve. Casey could see new consideration in Karai's eyes. Not that she looked fond of it. Though she stayed sitting, one of her feet slid across the floor. _Gotcha,_ Casey thought.

"I will smoke _one_ cigarette with you," Karai said, "if it means shutting you up. I'm going home afterwards."

"Deal," Casey said.

Karai stood and zipped the coat. She sighed, unsure of why she had agreed to this. Casey privately couldn't believe it had worked. He stuck the cigarette carton in his pocket.

"Okay, we've got a limited selection of hats, so you gotta take one or the other."

Karai stopped, newly disgusted, when Casey lifted an old red beanie in one hand and Robyn's oversized, sparkly pink unicorn earflap hat in the other.

"I'm leaving," she said.

"Hey, hey, you agreed!" Casey stepped in front of her. He wove back and forth as Karai tried pressing past him. "You don't have to wear one if you want, but your head is gonna freeze. Your choice."

"You are absolutely trying to humiliate me," Karai hissed.

"Don't know what you're talking about." Casey kept a straight face. "I've worn both of these before. They're comfy."

The look Karai gave the hats while sizing them up was one that hoped they would catch ablaze and light up Casey with them. _Raph better watch it,_ Casey thought. _He has some competition for most dramatic Hamato sibling._ Karai's assessing gaze moved to Casey's head. She took in his barely tied back messy hair. An instant later she grabbed the unicorn hat.

"I'll take this one."

"What was that about?" Casey tried to keep his indignation down as he pursued Karai up the roof stairs. "I saw that! Don't think I didn't! I washed my hair yesterday!"

"A pity it had no effect," Karai said, pushing the roof door open. She pulled the pink hat onto her head and breathed out a cloud of white. The cold bit at Casey's ear before he could put on his beanie.

"It doesn't look that bad." Offended, Casey felt at his hair before yanking the beanie over it. He grumbled to himself as Karai strode towards the roof corner. "My hair looks fine. I used shampoo and conditioner and everything. Can't believe I'm being attacked in my own house."

The neon signs were stark against the giant wave of clouds that had rolled in. Their grey expanse covered the sky in thick, melancholy layers. Casey almost suspected snow. The stacked apartment complexes pierced the cloud front. Each building that did looked as though it vanished into the nether. A Kraang portal, Casey thought, but one made by nature itself. Dull squares of light dotted the immense buildings' sides. Empty laundry lines hung between the lower stories. Cars honked in the distance; unseen people buzzed. The asphalt smelled of cold. A monolithic sign made of green, pink, and yellow tubes glared at Karai and Casey from across the street as they sat their backs against the roof wall. KING'S PAWN SHOP, it read. A fluorescent crown sparked above the K.

Casey opened the cigarette box. He fumbled to dump one out. A white and orange roll of paper landed in his lap. He snapped the cardboard box shut and tucked it back into his pocket as he retrieved the lighter. Karai watched with some interest. There was at least a foot between her and Casey.

"Okay, so, it's just like breathing. Inhale until you see some paper on the end of it burn. Hold it in for a second then breathe it out. You don't want to wait too long to do that or breathe in too much. Trust me."

"Noted," Karai said. She extended her hand. "Hurry up. I don't feel like waiting on you for an eon."

Casey stuck the cigarette into his mouth. That feeling that was not regret snuck up his back. The last he had smoked, it had been awful. This was unlikely to be any different. The lighter's flame warmed his fingers. Smoke ribboned upwards from the cigarette end. Casey inhaled, tasting ash and nicotine. _Gross._ He exhaled. His vision blurred. Casey tried not to double over coughing as he handed the cigarette to Karai.

"Your turn," he said.

Karai snatched the cigarette from him with a kind of smugness. Casey wasn't offended. All he had to do was wait. Soon enough, a moment later, he heard Karai's coughing and spluttering. The cigarette nearly flew onto the roof floor. Casey halted himself before he dove for it.

"This is repulsive," Karai said, fitting words between coughs. A snake hiss wove back into her voice. Casey startled to see a sheen of tears trickling down her face. It was bad, but was it that bad? Karai stifled her coughs. A flash of green leaked into her eyes. "It's like devouring a house fire."

Right. Her enhanced senses. What was bad for him was twice as terrible for her. Guilt filled Casey. He took the cigarette back from her. Karai muffled her final coughs.

"We don't have to finish it," he said. "I can take care of it."

"Finish your turn, Jones," Karai said. Ugly determination tightened her chest. "You've started this and we're ending it."

He couldn't argue with that. Casey took another drag. A second round of coughing ensued. Karai grimly reached for the cigarette when he was done. Together, the two sat on the rooftop, passing it back and forth. They avoided brushing each other's fingers when they handed over the cigarette. Casey and Karai stayed a foot apart. Karai's coughing simmered to nothing, but Casey guessed she was stifling it with sheer will.

"I have to admit, I'm impressed," Karai said. "It takes a special level of masochism to do this to yourself more than once."

Casey laughed. "Are you kidding? The last time I smoked was a year ago. If I did this to myself all the time I'd be a wheezing pile of lungs trying to keep up with the guys. The people who do it all the time can pull some cool tricks, though. Smoke rings and whatever."

Karai leaned forward, a challenge sharpening her posture. "Can you?"

"Geez, Karai, I just told you," Casey said. "No."

Karai leaned back again, disappointed. Casey handed her the cigarette. She spitefully stuck it between her lips.

"American rites of passage are atrocious."

"'Course they are. Enjoying them isn't the point." Casey ground the heel of his duct-taped shoe onto the floor. "It's doing it 'cause you can."

Robyn's glittery pink hat bobbed on Karai's head while she took another drag. Casey almost laughed again.

"The other rite of passage is usually drinking," he said. "I had a beer with my dad when I turned fifteen. Almost spat it all over the floor."

"Amateur," Karai said. "I participated in a sake ceremony when I was ten. The Shredder and I were the hosts."

"I bet you looked as fancy and uptight as always. Did you call everyone by their last names, too?"

"I was not born a shinobi, Casey, despite whatever ridiculous fantasies you have."

There was a hole in the cloud. In it, stars glittered behind smog. Even in the pollution and whirlwind of city lights, they survived. Casey remembered Donatello getting the telescope out with him and April one night in Central Park. He had rattled off a list of constellations and positions, probably to impress her. There was one dark fact among the mire of stars. Casey pictured Donatello adjusting his mask as he focused the telescope. _"Statistically speaking, a small portion of the stars are dead,"_ Don had said. _"It's the speed of light and the immense size of space that convinces us they're there still there. Isn't that fascinating?"_

Casey sympathized with Mikey when the other turtle had said _"Dude, that's dark. Like. Not in a pun way. That's depressing."_ Casey's fingers were numb when he took the cigarette back, almost dropping it. Karai wasn't looking at him.

 _What the hell,_ Casey thought. _I'm sixteen. I'm turning seventeen in half a year, and I still live here._ Time had flown. He was once a child poking a hockey mask, the same way Karai was once a child who idolized her father and suffered through a sake ceremony, and now they were here. Suddenly, Casey's scarred legs felt too long for him. His everything felt too big. He was rattling around inside himself. Casey hated it.

A handful of years, and this happened. Casey didn't want to think of how fast the rest of life would go. Leo and Karai were both firstborns, but in fifteen years plus some, only one of them had stuck close to their dad. Who knew what two or three more years would do to them? Karai was his age, wasn't she?

Considering existence sucked. It didn't matter how many times Splinter phoned in to join another layer of the universe: the universe was a garbage, merciless, scary place. _But,_ Casey thought, _that's what us and the guys are for._ The universe sucked a little less after one had beat the suckage out of it. Casey decided he was done with zoning out. He prodded Karai, who seemed fixed on something in the distance.

"Coming out here wasn't that bad," he said. "I bet you're glad you did it."

"I've regretted other things worse," Karai said.

Alright, that was close enough to a compliment. He'd take it. Casey handed their half-finished cigarette to Karai again.

"You're welcome," he said.

"You make baffling decisions."

"Look, if you're gonna call me stupid, don't be vague. I'm not here for half-assed attempts."

"I'm not calling you stupid. I came to you as a last resort and we've spent this whole time arguing." Karai choked on a cough. "You should have invited O'Neil or Raphael over for your bad decisions."

Casey shrugged. The cigarette end near his fingers tingled with heat. "It'd be pointless. I like April, but we're both in high school. Both our lives were normal before the whole mutants thing happened. I assume she did some of this same stuff. She has friends; she probably still does some normal stuff outside us and the guys. It'd be like inviting someone over to celebrate your seventh birthday when you're ten, y'know?"

Somehow, Casey doubted that April's coming-of-age wildness was as bad as his. Maybe their high school was in a nicer area, as was April's apartment, but home was not. Yet another reason never to invite April over. Or the guys, even if they wouldn't judge. Drugs were easier to find here than any functional school. Casey avoided junkies as much as possible-he had beat up two of them trying to hassle an old lady week-but growing up, they had all done some stupid shit. He didn't need April to see that. Karai, he didn't care about. She had grown up a ninja murder cult. Casey doubted anything he revealed to her, intentionally or not, would phase her or cause her any concern.

( _Besides_ , a voice whispered in his head, _you've seen April's house. You've seen how she and her dad talk and compared it to you and your old man and your feelings got even weirder. What kind of person crushes on their best friend and wishes her relationship with her dad sucked a little more, or was yours?_ )

Casey stifled the voice. If he ever got married and a kid popped into the picture, he decided, he would ask Raph to punch him off the nearest twelve story building. Becoming a father made people into dicks.

"That doesn't cover Raphael," Karai said. Casey was grateful for her sudden talkativeness. "I don't need to live with Splinter or the others to know you both make sensible planning difficult. You both get along better than the two of us, or Raphael and I."

"Thanks, I guess?" Casey scraped ash off the cigarette end. "I love hanging out with the big lug, but Raph and I aren't joined at the hip."

Less than half of the cigarette was left. Karai's face was blueing again, but it wasn't as bad as last time. The pawn shop sign cast its fluorescence on them. Green fractured with yellow, with pink, into outlines of their silhouettes. Karai didn't look wistful-she was too fierce for that, plus wearing Robyn's happy unicorn hat-but she looked a little lonely, staring at whatever future in the cityscape she saw.

Casey remembered the other reason why he didn't like smoking now. Bad taste, and too much time to think. Of course he had to consider Raph now. April was one part of this balancing act. Raph was another. Casey never intended to tell Raph about the neighborhood. He would confide in him about everything else, but not this. Even if his home life and drug experiences were tame, by the neighborhood's standards, Casey didn't feel like it was a wise move.

Raph was temperamental, outspoken, and always ready to beat some goons, but he was still Splinter's son. Was younger than Casey, too, in many ways. He had an odd fragility about some more common parts of street life. Violence? Sure. Drinking, smoking, or sitting back and taking some hits from the old man because he had to? Hell no. Not that Splinter ever hit Raph, anyway. Casey decided it was yet another facet of the old man's zen weirdness. He was a little glad Karai thought Splinter was weird too. Even if she didn't say it, he saw it in her hesitations, in her wariness. At least someone else understood how bizarre Splinter was.

Speaking of the old man, that was another reason for not dragging Raph into some of his specialized bad decisions: Splinter. It was not worth it without Splinter factored in. It was extra not worth it with Splinter added. Casey didn't feel like getting his ass beat by sensei for introducing any one of his sons to the grubbier layers of New York. Mikey looked ready to crumble when their dad looked remotely upset, Donatello shrank, and even Leo quivered at times. Casey did not want to imagine a crossfaded Raph coming home. No, Casey thought, this bottom-of-the-barrel part of life was off-limit for any of the Hamatos.

Yet here he was, having a smoke with Splinter's only daughter.

"You and Raphael are a paired nuisance," Karai said. Casey was now used to sudden insults as part of their communication.

"You're just being petty now," Casey said. "Also, come on-could you see Leo supplexing a Dragon henchman into a dumpster? Who else I am supposed to kick ass with? You?"

Karai chuckled. It surprised them both into silence. They struggled out of it.

"We've gone off topic," Karai said. "At the end, I assumed you would leap at any chance to spend time with O'Neil that puts you in a less embarrassing light."

"I assumed you would go somewhere else to freeze to death besides the projects," Casey said, "but here we are."

Karai blew two long streams of smoke out of her nose.

"Touché."

Casey grinned before the situation hit him. Had she just made a joke? Had _they_ just made a joke? Casey's head spun. This was not the interaction he had expected to have with _Karai_ , of all people. This was getting too strange. Dynamics had shifted, like ice underfoot, and they both felt it. Neither of them knew whether to like it or not.

A disk of red glowed between Karai's lips. She flashed the tiny cigarette fragment at Casey before throwing it across the roof and standing up. It disappeared into the night.

"I'm leaving," she said.

Casey made a muffled noise when Robyn's hat hit him in the face. He pulled it off in time to see Karai's fading smile. She started unzipping his borrowed coat.

"Keep it," Casey said. Karai's hand stilled. "Just make sure you give it back later."

The zipper whined, spinning back up the length of the coat. Karai, once again, looked very punk. Casey suddenly felt nervous. Karai hadn't replied. Was that a crafty look? He ran after her as she leapt from the building. The concrete guard was icy under his hands.

"Seriously, I mean it, give it back, or else!" Casey yelled. "That's my only coat!" But karai was already a silhouette vanishing over the steamy rooftops.

Casey cursed. Great. This was what he got for trusting a renegade ninja. He vowed to insult her the next time he saw her, or rip the coat off of her, if necessary. There was no way she was showing up to another Kraang conflict with his vigilante jacket. That was his look, damnit, and there couldn't be more than one punk badass running around in the fight. He rubbed his chapped hands together. The nights of New York continued glowing alongside the dead stars. Casey watched the clouds roll over them.

It took Casey a minute-a delayed, delayed, chapped by cold minute-to realize that Karai had been asking if she was the only person he had done this with, if this was some bad-tasting present she got to herself, and in the end, he had answered her.


End file.
